


cub kisses

by meteor-sword (vaenire)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Snapshots, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/meteor-sword
Summary: Bumi was fairly certain of his earliest memory of Uncle Sokka
Relationships: Background Sokka/Suki (Avatar) - Relationship, Bumi II & Sokka (Avatar), Bumi II & Suki (Avatar), brief past Bumi II/Izumi (Avatar)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56
Collections: MMEU Winter Solstice Exchange 2020





	cub kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Odae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odae/gifts).



Bumi was fairly certain of his earliest memory of his uncle. His parents were visiting the South Pole with him, and they were still sitting on Appa or on the ship or somewhere, wrestling him into his oversized parka. Bumi never liked the parkas, or the way the fur-lined hood rubbed his hair every which way and made him too hot. Katara struggled with him for several minutes before resigning with an irritated sigh and handing him to Aang, flitting off to begin her endless list of tasks to complete during their short visit to the Pole. 

“Bumi, you need to put your hood on and keep it on, okay buddy?” his Dad had said. 

“Where’s yours?” Bumi replied plaintively, causing Aang pause. 

“Well, I don’t need one because…” 

“I don’t need one either!” 

“Yes you do!” 

“Why?” 

“Bumi--”    
“Daddy doesn’t need one, Bumi doesn’t need one!” 

Sokka stuck his head in at that point. “Katara said you needed help with something?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Aang said, already holding the toddler out to him. “You can talk sense into him, right? He won’t keep his hood on.” 

It was clear from Sokka’s face he hadn’t anticipated having an entire kid thrust onto him in his bid to help his friend, the frown he gave Aang so cartoonish it made little Bumi giggle. He stopped when Uncle Sokka turned the frown on him. “And why not?” 

“I don’t like it!” 

Sokka furrowed his brow-- and Bumi poked at the wrinkle between his brows that grew more pronounced when Sokka made the face he was making now. 

“You like having cold little ears better?” 

Bumi, ever the contrarian toddler, nodded emphatically. 

“You wanna get a little frostbitten nose, too?” 

Bumi nodded, less sure of himself. Uncle had said a funny new word. “Frostbitten!” he repeated back. 

“You know what that is? When the frost…” he paused, then grabbed Bumi’s nose suddenly, “ _ bites _ ?” 

Bumi paused, looking at his uncle with big eyes before pursing his lips. “I don’t like it,” he said, nasally. Sokka let go of his nose. 

“Why not?” 

“I just don’t!” 

Sokka sat on a bench with Bumi in his lap. “What don’t you like about it?” 

Bumi pursed his lips harder. “I don’t like how it feels on my hair.” Sokka hummed, running a hand through Bumi’s mop. 

“Yeah buddy, it’s getting pretty long isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for Bumi to respond before he balanced the kid on his lap and stuck both of his hands into Bumi’s thick hair. He pulled it together at the back of Bumi’s head and held it in one hand, grabbing a leather strip from somewhere with his other and tying it all back. He leaned back to look at his handiwork with a look of concentration that Bumi returned. 

“Now let’s try it, okay?” he said before pulling Bumi’s hood back over his head, hair now out of the way. “Better?” 

“Better,” Bumi said, obstinance still evident in his voice. He pushed it off his head again and stared at Sokka defiantly. 

“Hmph…” Sokka hummed, then grabbed the side of Bumi’s head again, pulling him forward and pressing a quick succession of kisses to Bumi’s hair, all over his head, before unceremoniously yanking his hood back on. “Now you gotta keep that hood on, because I’m gonna need those back and if you take it off the wind’ll take all those away. Okay?” 

Bumi stared at him wide-eyed, trying to sense any joke or lie in his uncle’s face. When he found none, he grabbed the fur-lining of his hood and pulled it down harder to keep it in place. “Why?” 

“ _ Why? _ ” Sokka repeated. “If you lose all those kisses, how am I gonna give one to your aunt later?” 

Bumi giggled before nodding solemnly, trying to wipe the smile off his face. 

“Ready to go see Grandpa?” 

He nodded again as Sokka set him down before grabbing Bumi’s hand. 

\--

Bumi was seven years old when he was dropped off to stay with his aunt and uncle for a week or two while his parents dealt with tensions in the Earth Kingdom. It was summertime and Sokka and Suki were staying in the South Pole, and it was warm enough that Bumi didn’t even have to wear his hood if he didn’t want to. 

He hopped off Appa’s back and waved goodbye to his parents, and Suki took his hand and started leading him back toward the village walls and the warmth of the fire in her and Sokka’s tent. He was a bit too heavy for her to swing him around like she used to, but they held hands and he chatted eagerly, pleased with the attention she was giving him-- a new audience for his stories was always exciting. 

“And you know what my Mom told me?” 

“What’s that?” Suki asked with an amused smile. 

“She said I’m getting a sibling!” 

“Really!” Suki said, raising her brows and grinning widely. “Do you think it’ll be a sister or a brother?” 

Bumi stopped in his tracks, and her mitted hand slid out of his for a moment. He stroked his little chin and looked up at the blue sky. Either would be fun. “I think it’s a sister,” he said with finality. Suki hummed, in lieu of saying ‘good choice’ maybe. She held out her hand for him again and he ran to grab it, and they carried on their way. 

As they came closer, another group heading toward the village walls from the east came into view. A small group of people dragging something big. 

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the group emphatically and looking up at his aunt. 

“Oh,” Suki said, following his gesture. “They’re bringing in their hunt,” she said carefully. 

Bumi fell silent, and his aunt didn’t fill that silence. The crunch of snow and whip of arctic wind took that job. 

Sula greeted them when they got close to his aunt and uncle’s tent in the village. The polar dog barked happily, trying to contain her excited energy as she watched Suki and Bumi approach, keeping herself seated even as she shifted her massive paws in the snow and her ears perked up. Her eyes were on Bumi, and Bumi’s eyes were on her. 

“Sula!” he cried, running the last dozen feet to wrap his arms around her. She was still a bit taller than him, especially when she stood and licked his ear, nearly knocking him backwards if not for his tight grip around her neck. 

“Alright,” Suki said, smile evident in her voice. “Inside, girl,” she instructed the dog who turned on her heel and went inside the open tent flap. Bumi followed, and Suki helped him out of his big parka before taking off her own. “Want some tea?” 

Bumi nodded, hard in the exaggerated way that only a toddler would until his chin touched his sternum and he threw his head back. 

Suki laughed. “Okay, can you help me with the pot? It’s over in the corner.” 

Bumi knew where the big cast iron pot was, and picked it up with much effort. With the long handle the pot swung against his knees as he walked it over to his aunt who was stoking the low embers of the fire back to life. 

“Thank you,” Suki said, taking it from him and hooking the handle into place above the soon-to-be fire. “Grab that jar, would you?” she said, motioning to the jar of herbal leaves on the shelf beside where the pot lived. He did so, then threw himself down on the rug beside Sula as Suki got the fire going and the water boiling. 

“So where’s Uncle?” Bumi asked as he tried to get Sula to let him pet her whiskers. She kept nodding her face away from his hand, much to his frustration.

“He and your grandfather are on the hunt. They’re probably with the men we saw,” she said, distracted as she adjusted the height of the pot to bring the intensity of the boil down a bit. 

Sula rested her chin on Bumi’s shoulder and he rubbed her neck, falling silent. 

“What’s up, kiddo?” his aunt asked after a few minutes stretched by. She had added the herbs to the water already, and it would be several minutes of simmering before it would be ready to drink. 

Bumi shrugged. “I don’t get hunting.” 

Suki preoccupied herself with the tea for another moment before sitting cross legged between Bumi and the fire. “Well, it’s how we eat in the winter here.” 

“We eat beans and cake in the winter,” Bumi countered. 

“Yes, there’s a lot of beans and vegetables in the Earth Kingdom, too. And even here we gather berries and lots of nuts and seeds to eat, too. Your Great Grandma knows where all the best of those are, did you know that?” 

Bumi shook his head, and looked at his hands. 

“Hey, maybe you can ask your uncle and you Grandpa when they get home, huh?” she said. 

Bumi hummed and rubbed Sula’s soft ear between his fingers. Suki poured him tea and handed it to him, cautioning that it was hot. 

It wasn’t long before Sula perked up at voices Bumi couldn’t yet hear, and the aimla skin was pulled back as Uncle Sokka stuck his head inside. Sula scrambled to her feet to greet him, earning a laugh and a pat on the head. “Hi Sula, hi Suki, hi Bumi,” he said in turn. 

In his hand were a bundle of sticks and a sheathed knife, and he crossed to the bench along the side of the tent after folding the sticks under his arm to hold the tea. “Would you mind spreading the coals, Suki? We have a lot of curing to do,” he said with a crooked smile and a wink as he pulled the knife from its sheath, placing his cup on the bench beside him. 

“Where’s your father?” she asked as she complied, expertly utilizing the poker to spread out the coals until the flames shrunk to flickers. 

“He and Bato are still cutting the meat outside,” he said. 

“Bumi was curious about the hunt,” she told him, and Sokka raised his brows at his nephew and hummed. 

“What about it?” 

Bumi shrugged. He didn’t understand how or why the people from his Mom’s village hunted. It made food, of course-- but food Bumi had yet to try, following teachings from his Dad. He knew his Mother ate it sometimes, but avoided it at home. If it was something his Dad didn’t do, why did his Uncle and his Grandpa? 

“How much tea is left?” Sokka asked, turning to Suki and setting the sticks and his re-sheathed knife to the side. “Let’s go outside.” 

The three of them brought six cups of tea out to where Grandpa and Bato were, one for each person plus an extra one Bumi was dying to ask about. The two men were cutting thick slices of dark pink meat, pausing to take the cups with warm smiles and quiet thanks. Hakoda took the extra cup, too, when Sokka insisted and lifted it toward the daytime moon before pouring it out onto the snow, leaving a tea colored hole on the icy snow. Then he took a sip of his own cup. Bato and Sokka lifted their cups briefly as well and took their drinks. The older men returned to their work. 

“So,” Sokka said, crouching to Bumi’s level for a moment before thinking better and picking him up, balancing him on his hip. “You were curious?” 

Bumi nodded, transfixed by the new angle to watching the meat separate readily under Grandpa’s blade. 

“You and your Daddy don’t eat meat,” Sokka observed. “Air Nomad customs stipulate no taking of lives.” Bumi nodded. That sounded familiar, even if his Uncle used words he didn’t recognize. “I think that’s a good way to look at things. It’s respecting nature, and it’s more similar to our lifestyle down here than you might think. Humans shouldn’t just take and take whatever they want, that’s how we get into big trouble.” Bumi noticed Hakoda look up, overhearing the conversation, and flash Sokka a small smile. “The plants give us seeds and nuts and berries, but we have to ask permission. If you upset them, they could go away. Do you know what I mean?” 

Bumi frowned and shook his head. Sokka smiled, and looked up at the sky with a strangely fond look. 

“When I was little, I would help my Mom gather berries in the patches over the hill. She told me to always ask if I could take the berries-- and to never take too many. There are lots of people in our community the berries want to feed, and not all of them are human. So I would ask, and then I would pluck off a berry-- and sometimes I would eat them right then. And one of those berries I went to pick and it was pretty obstinate, you know when the vines just don’t want to let it go? Well I pulled on it hard and it came off, and I put it right in my mouth, and my Mom saw just how sour it was from the look on my face. She said she’d thought she had already told me to ask permission, and I  _ had _ \-- but I hadn’t listened to the answer. The berry wasn’t ready, and it told me so by not coming off the vine. I just didn’t listen. If i had, maybe we would’ve picked it a week later when it would be ripe and delicious, or it would have fed a bird who needed to eat, who would feed its babies or feed a tiger seal, who would thin out the otter penguin populations to let more fish make it to Water Tribe nets. Does that make sense?” 

Bumi followed, he thought. He blinked at the information and nodded. 

“So we don’t take too much, and we take care of the people who take care of us, whether they’re human or not. We all have a role to play in each other’s lives-- for at least a hundred and thirty years this whale has lived near our bay, and today he gave himself to us to feed our village, and we’re thankful for that. We could not have speared him without his assent-- oh Bumi you should’ve seen him. He breached between our boats and looked at us, and we waited to ask permission and he just stayed there with us.”

Bumi cocked his head. “Wouldn’t that be scary for him?” 

Sokka clicked his tongue. “Maybe.” He fell silent for a moment too, and both of them looked at the strips of meat, piles of it growing under Bato and Hakoda’s blades. “A lot of things we need to do in life, and what our roles become, can be scary,” Sokka said. He adjusted Bumi on his hip. Deep in thought, he stayed silent for a while, and Bumi almost thought he had decided the conversation was over. “I was much younger than you when I became a big brother, and honestly sometimes I really didn’t like it. Your Mom could be annoying and needy and I would just want to play or pretend I didn’t have a sister. But it was an important role for me to fill, and nobody else could do it for me. I needed to be there to keep your Mama safe and teach her things and-- well, sometimes for her to teach me too.” 

The chill on Bumi’s cheeks felt like a wakeup call, like the nonexistent clouds partin to let the sun touch his cheeks. It felt like his uncle was telling him something momentous, that would change everything, even more than finding out about his coming little sibling. 

“It’s a lot of responsibility,” Sokka conceded. “Living in the world is a lot of work. You need to see what you’re able to do, and what you’re good at, and use that to help your family and community and the world every day. But you’ll do good. You’ll be a good big brother, won’t you?” 

Bumi nodded. 

\--

When Kya was old enough to learn to swim, and learn to sit still enough to not rock the boat too much and to understand what she was agreeing to, their uncle brought them fishing. Mom had already taught Bumi to ice fish, but she never had the time to bring him out to the sea.

Uncle Sokka wasn’t any less busy than their Mom these days, splitting his time between Republic City and the South Pole. But today he had time, and had Bumi help him paddle out beyond sight of the village. 

Sokka threaded his own hook, having the kids watch how he tied it and how he hooked the bait. Then he did the same with Kya’s as Bumi followed along. 

Fishing wasn’t usually Bumi’s favorite pastime, but doing it with his uncle and sister made it fun, and the boat ensured interesting and slowly changing scenery. 

“Watch this!” Bumi cried, voice echoing on the ice, before casting his line as far out as he could, promptly embedding his hook in an ice sheet some fifteen feet away with a hard  _ plunk _ . Sokk and Kya stared at Bumi for a long moment, making his ears burn, before they both leaned back to laugh at him even as Sokka grabbed the oar to paddle them over and dislodge the hook. 

They carried on that way for a long while, occasionally punctuated by Sokka reeling in a catch, or Kya and Bumi beginning to reel in before losing tension on the line and bringing up an empty hook. 

Eventually they came within earshot of another village, and Sokka redirected them to pass by the mouth of the village’s bay. 

Sitting on the shoulder of the bay, elevated above the high tide line, was a small gathering of stones. Ten tall stones stood tall among many shorter, all sat up on their sides. The shadows, visible from their canoe many yards from the shore, were ominous. 

“What’s that?” Kya asked, also having spotted it. 

“Oh,” Sokka said, following her pointing gesture. He looked at it for a long time. “It’s a memorial,” he said simply. 

Bumi had seen memorials for people before, stones sat on graves when the earth was too hard to dig. This was different. 

“Of what?” Kya prodded. 

Their parents didn’t talk openly of the war with them yet, though their Aunt Suki would make glancing references, and other adults would make flowery implications to it like Uncle Zuko. Never once had Uncle Sokka spoken a word about it, though. 

“This village sent a lot of warriors to the Earth Kingdom,” Sokka said, obfuscating the event and knowing young Kya would not be able to put it together. “Not as many came back.” 

He steered them toward home before long, once Kya managed to reel in her first successful catch. As they drifted into the village harbor, Sokka split his smaller catches between the two of them, directing them to add them to their own pile of fish. He winked as their Mother came into view on the shore, waving excitedly with little Tenzin just peeking over her shoulder. 

She was very impressed by their hauls, but the look she gave Sokka, followed by a light punch on his arm, made Bumi suspect she saw through Sokka’s ruse. 

\--

Bumi had to double take the first time Sokka came to the military base where Bumi’s first assignment was. It was a few miles up the coast from Republic City, but he supposed it was close enough for a day trip. 

Bumi didn’t know it was a visit from Councilman Uncle (as Bumi and Kya had started calling him since Katara assigned Sokka his first term) when the command came for the privates to line up in the yard early that morning. It wasn’t until Bumi heard the first click of his uncle’s cane that he realized it was not a checkup but rather a surprise visit. 

Bumi knew better than to crane his neck to see Sokka’s approach, but he soon came into his line of sight walking beside General Izo, Bumi’s commander. Suki, in Kyoshi regalia, followed just behind Sokka’s shoulder. 

Bumi’s battalion was lined up in the courtyard of the old training ground, repurposed from an old Fire Nation outpost from the colonial days. The big stone walls and arching entranceways, a trademark of Fire Nation architecture, cast long shadows over the soldiers near the back of the lineup, but Sokka and Izo walked in the sun as they passed through the lines not far from Bumi. It wasn’t that he was trying to make eye contact with his uncle as they passed in front of him, but when Sokka’s cane rapped the side of his ankle he looked at him in surprise and found a sly smile on his uncle’s face. 

Izo did not care to notice, and they continued on. Izo was talking at Sokka in the grandiose manner he always spoke, and Sokka nodded along despite clearly not listening. 

They were dismissed to their training courses before long, Izo and Sokka disappearing into the inner rooms. 

“Whaddaya think’s going on?” Bumi’s sparring partner, Yiku, asked, nodding toward the wall behind which Izo’s command office lay. 

“What’s that mean?” Bumi asked. 

“Not usual that councilmen come out to the base.” 

Bumi was sure he’d mentioned at some point who his family was-- not that he made a point for everyone to know, but if it came up it came up. It hadn’t occurred to him that it may be an odd event for his aunt and uncle to visit. 

“I heard they were coming for a court martial hearing. At least the broad,” one of the soldiers nearby said, and Bumi grit his teeth at his aunt being referred to that way. Yiku groaned at the mention of another court martial. Izo was not reluctant to discipline his troops. 

One of Izo’s assistants appeared in the courtyard then. 

“Ensign Bumi,” she said, back and voice stiff as always, “Admiral Izo has granted you leave for the day.” 

Bumi blinked in surprise as the assistant turned on her heel and left. He looked at Yiku, who shrugged and moved over to pick up sparring with the others. 

He found his uncle outside the walls with a waiting Satomobile. With a shared grin, they got into the auto and the driver took them toward the city. 

“Are you hungry for lunch?” Sokka said, not minding the high speeds the driver took the winding road at, resting his cane across his knees. 

“Sure,” Bumi agreed amiably. After moving to the United Republic a few months before, he still wasn’t quite accustomed to the restaurants in the city and the green mountains in the surrounding country, and the Satomobiles used to go between. The islands and the South Pole where he was raised did not have any of these. 

“Are you alright with spicy food?” 

Bumi shrugged, and his uncle grinned. It was clear he had already given the name of their destination to the driver, and they were soon pulling to the side of the road in a village on a seaside ridge overlooking Yue Bay. 

The restaurant was much more posh than Bumi expected. The ceilings were high and the seats were velvet and Bumi, still in his uniform, was sorely out of place among the expensive clothes of the other patrons. Even Sokka in his formal Water Tribe blue suit stuck out. The waitress gave them a bit of a smirk as she sat them in a corner. 

"Actually, I noticed you had a window seat open. If you don't mind?" Sokka asked with an equally sly yet charming smile. He angled himself toward her so that the light from the window caught on his 10-sided councilman badge and the waitress' eyes widened a touch. She inclined her head and led them to the table he'd pointed out. 

"I didn't know you were a fan of Fire Nation cuisine, uncle," Bumi said with an awkward laugh as they sat and he took his first look at the dishes served here. So that's what he meant by spicy food. 

The plates were small and relatively inexpensive individually, and were definitely delicious-- but Bumi knew his and his uncle's appetites and couldn't help but pay attention to the steadily climbing expense as they chatted and ate. There was seared fish and pan fried vegetables and soups and rice dishes that Bumi might have seen on the occasional trip to the Fire Nation palace as a kid. 

"So what were you and Auntie at the base for, today?" Bumi thought to ask at some point, between bites of some kind of breaded crustacean-- he'd have to get the name of this, and the sauce that his uncle had shown him to dip it in. 

Sokka grunted as he swallowed his own food. "Suki's overseeing a court hearing," he explained shortly. "Figured I'd come see if I could help. I couldn't, so here we are," he said with a wink, in a tone that suggested he'd known all along he'd not be useful. 

Before Bumi could ask more about that, the waitress appeared with a slip of paper, the handwritten equation determining what they owed written in neat maroon ink. 

"Thanks," Sokka said, but continued before she could leave with a pacifying smile, "But you can send this to the private dining room. He'll take care of it for me." 

The waitress' smile pressed thin, and she frowned in the way that only reached her eyes. Very impressive, to be honest. "Excuse me?" 

"I said you can deliver this to the private room," Sokka said, and Bumi had to raise a brow-- he was sure his uncle wasn't trying to dine and ditch, but it sure appeared that way. 

The waitress frowned outright now. She turned to catch the eye of another waitress and beckoned her over, and Bumi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sokka smiled charismatically at the new coming waitress. 

"Look, you bring this," he said, holding up the written bill, "and this," he said, carefully unpinning his council pin from his lapel, "to your patrons in the private dining hall, and please ask them to foot my bill. I have money if he doesn't want to anymore." 

The waitresses looked at each other and the second one cautiously took the items from Sokka's hands and quickly turned and disappeared. The first waitress stayed at their table, and Sokka continued smiling at her amiably, and Bumi really started to wonder what really brought them to this restaurant on the outskirts of Republic City. 

"You know," Sokka said, turning to Bumi, "they say this is the Fire Lady's favorite restaurant in the entire United Republic." 

Bumi felt his stomach drop at the words. "Oh yeah?" he asked, voice betraying his nervousness. 

"Yeah, she comes here all the time when she comes to the United Republic for diplomatic meetings. Even when she's heading to Ba Sing Se, they say." 

"Wow," Bumi said, willing himself to stop sweating. "Does she do diplomatic trips often?" he asked, grasping for something to say as the waitress watched them with skeptical eyes. 

"Of course," Sokka laughed. "She's only Zuko's top advisor." Bumi cringed at the casual first name basis with which his uncle mentioned the Fire Lord. Of course he was Uncle Zuko to Bumi, but in public he would never say his name like that. 

The waitress returned a moment later, hands empty. 

"He would like you to join him," she said plainly, and the flatness of her voice belied her shock. "I'll bring you over, if you'd like." 

Bumi doesn't know what he expected when the waitress led them to the room near the very back of the restaurant, down a hall with a wide window overlooking the sea, but he was still surprised when the curtain was pulled back to reveal Uncle Zuko, Aunt Mai, and their daughter Izumi all sitting at an ornate table set low on the ground of the raised platform. Their three pairs of shoes were set neatly beside the step up onto the platform, and Sokka thanked the waitress and stepped inside, kicking off his shoes easily. 

"Sokka," Zuko greeted curtly. "And Bumi." Bumi didn't know what to think of the way he said his name so much nicer than he'd said his uncle's. "What's the meaning of this, then?" 

Zuko was one of Bumi's favorites, growing up. When Bumi was little and he visited the South Pole when Bumi and his family were there, he would finish his serious work at the same time every day and come out to play with Izumi, which meant he would play with Bumi and Kya, too. Even though he always seemed to be tired, he was kind and fun. Now his hair was graying-- while the hair in his top knot was still partially black, the roots of his hair were a mess of silver and black and white. His beard had stripes of white near the corners of his mouth. Aunt Mai had a strip of silver near her hairline on the left side of her forehead. 

"Well, thanks for the lunch, first of all," Sokka said, grabbing a cushion for the spot on the floor he'd chosen for himself, sliding his legs into the enclave under the table. Bumi hadn't ever been to this kind of dining place before, he didn't think. He wondered if his Dad had, or if that was part of the reason Bumi hadn't. Fire Nation food, while heavy in noodles, tended to consist heavily of fish and meat at restaurants like this. 

"Sokka, I can't believe you are interrupting my family meal," Zuko continued sternly. He was stern, but not  _ stern- _ stern, and Bumi had heard Zuko use that tone toward his and Aang’s other friends, and towards Izumi on a handful of occasions. 

"Well, this could've been between us yesterday. Today it can be between the five of us," Sokka said, nodding around the table with a pointedly charming smile to Aunt Mai. "And tomorrow it can be between all the world politicians." 

"What's he talking about," Mai asked in her signature flat tone, not quite making her statement into a question. Bumi was an adult, and shouldn't think about how weird she is anymore, but he'd always thought she was weird and really liked that about her. 

"Good question, Mai," Sokka said. "You know how sometimes, our Zuko has a bit of a hard time with communication?" he asked, earning a scowl and a dry laugh from Zuko and Mai respectively. 

"Yes, I’m familiar with that," Mai said, and Bumi almost dared to call the expression on her face a 'smile.' 

“Do you mind if I take this opportunity to iron out some of those communication issues, then?” 

Smile still in place, she raised a single brow, looking between the plate sitting between herself and Zuko, and then at Zuko’s profile. 

“Shall Izumi and I excuse ourselves?” 

“No,” Sokka and Zuko said at once. 

Sokka smiled. “I think it’ll be a good learning opportunity, for Izumi and for Bumi.” 

Zuko raised a brow at that. “And do you see politics in your future, Bumi?” 

“I-- I don’t really know, sir.” 

When Izumi covered her mouth to laugh is when he knew he misspoke. 

“Please,” Zuko said, falling back into the pleasant if scratchy voice Bumi knew him for, “You can still call me Uncle Zuko.” 

And it hit Bumi that Zuko had always been fond of the kids, and that may just be why Sokka dragged Bumi along for this. Politics, he supposed. 

“Yes--” he cut himself off before he said ‘sir’ again, “Uncle.” 

“Izumi,” Sokka said, cutting through the small talk. “Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it?” 

Izumi gave a small smile and nodded meekly. She had been a shy child, if Bumi remembered correctly, but she’d gotten more outspoken when they reached their teen years. She’d always had the odd, dry humor that Bumi enjoyed. 

“I’m turning eighteen in two weeks,” she said. “I’ll be studying at the Republic Military Academy soon.” 

Sokka nodded. “Very good, I hear that’s where the Earth Kingdom sends their heirs too,” he said with a sly look to Zuko, who rolled his eyes. “At least when they’re feeling harmonious.” 

Bumi sort of knew what he was referring to-- Kuei had sent his son there, and planned to send his daughter until Zuko let something slip at a formal event some years ago, which Kuei took personally and decided to give the Fire Nation, and by extension the United Republic, the cold diplomatic shoulder. 

“Now Izumi--” Sokka started, but Zuko cut him off. 

“Enough. Get to the point.” 

Mai took a piece of fish and rice off the plate sitting between her and Zuko, leaning back with the food clasped in her chopsticks to watch in mild interest. 

“Fine. If you’ve read my letters, you would know that I am going to propose a piece of legislation tomorrow that would potentially restructure the entire command of the United Forces.” 

Zuko sighed and shook his head. “Yes, I read them. You know that’s going to  _ ruffle feathers. _ ” 

Sokka scoffed, and a waitress came in with another round of plates, cautiously setting down a plate between Sokka and Bumi and watchin for anyone’s negative reaction to that before placing one before Izumi, and another between the Lord and Lady. Sokka thanked her and took a piece, popping it into his mouth. He spoke around it, “You’re scared of ruffling feathers  _ now _ ?” 

“What’s the legislation?” Mai asked, unimpressed by the cryptic avoidance of the subject. 

Zuko sighed again. “Sokka-- very nobly-- wants to remove all United Forces command of Fire Nation descent who served under Ozai or Azulon.” 

Izumi frowned, and with her long black hair and red gown, it made her look shockingly similar to her mother. “What’s wrong with that?” 

“There’s nothing  _ wrong _ , it’s just a difficult--” Zuko cut himself off. “It would be a difficult sell to UR citizens with Fire Nation heritage, which makes up a large portion of Sokka’s constituency.” 

Sokka nodded along with the statement, taking another piece of what must be dessert. “Zuko, can you guess what Suki’s up to today?” 

Zuko furrowed his brows at Sokka, thrown by the pivot in conversation. “What?” 

Sokka took his time chewing, but still didn’t let it stop talking. “She’s overseeing a court martial. One of her Warriors enlisted with the Forces and is being court martialed.” He swallowed. “For the third time in six months.” 

Zuko grimaced, raising his brow to ask  _ what does that have to do with me? _

“Did you know that,” Sokka continued, pulling out a small pad of paper from a pocket and reading off his handwritten notes. “Ethnically Earth Kingdom soldiers are four times as likely to be court martialed under an ethnically FIre Nation commander compared to serving under an Earth Kingdom commander? Ethnically Water Tribe-- North or South-- are court martialed at five times the going rate for Earth Kingdom soldiers, and eight times Fire Nation. And Southern Water Tribe military transplants are ten times as likely to cut their hair than civilian transplants-- and we don’t have to get into how important hairstyle is to our culture.” He looked up from the pad of paper. “And for the record, the  _ one _ Southern commander has given approximately…” he said, checking his notes for effect, “zero court martials in his ten years.” 

Zuko considered this, chewing on it. “And what will you do to deal with the fallout from Fire Nation civilians?” 

“I can deal with that when it happens. 

Zuko hummed. “So why do you need my input.” 

“I need you to talk to your councilman ahead of tomorrow’s meeting. In the past, the mere suggestion of criticism of Fire Nation officers has been taken as an affront to you, personally, somehow, and I know he’ll drag it out to public hearings if you don’t intervene.” 

“Well, if your legislation wouldn’t pass the council without my intervention, then I don’t see--” 

“Oh, it’ll pass. You think I only talk to you? The councilwoman from the Northern Water Tribe and the man from the Earth Kingdom have already given their soft backing. The only reason I need you is for a smooth passing.” 

Zuko pursed his lips. “Izumi,” he said, “What do you think of this proposal?” 

Izumi looked at her Father for a long moment before looking at Sokka and Bumi. “I think even if it were an optics move, it would look good for the Fire Nation to rescind positions from those who served under a genocidal regime. Perhaps a compromise could be made to offer reeducation, but if these people have careers of more than twenty years in the military, retirement packages may be more in order. Especially with what Uncle Sokka listed out on what appears to be discrimination against non Fire Nation soldiers. I suppose it could be chalked up to the differences in military culture, especially when it comes to Water Tribe soldiers compared to the military structures of the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, but…” she looked at her father again. “I would back such a measure. At this point we do not want to appear to grip too tightly to our military past.” She looked at Bumi again, and shared a nod with Sokka. Bumi felt something weird settle in his stomach, like when he’d taken up his friend’s dare to eat the strange looking fish they caught on a beach and fried up, not recognizing what weird sea life the United Republic coast held. 

Izumi spoke smartly, as always, capturing Bumi’s attention in a way that, well,  _ really _ caught his attention. 

“Well stated,” Zuko said. “Fine, Sokka. I will speak to my councilman this evening. And for the record, I was  _ not _ avoiding you. You may be surprised that I am  _ still _ very busy. The world keeps turning, after all.” 

Sokka stood with a wide grin and leaned his hands on the table. “So it does, Zuko,” he said, clapping one of those hands on Bumi’s shoulders. “So it does. I will see you at Katara’s this weekend in the city, right?” 

Zuko sighed one last time, looking to Mai for confirmation before nodding. “Yes, you will.” 

“Great. Goodbye Mai, goodbye Izumi.” 

“Bye Uncle Sokka!” 

WIth that, Sokka led them back out of the private room, out of the fancy restaurant, and into the back of his waiting Satomobile. Back on the road heading into the city for the rest of his evening of leave, Bumi felt Sokka’s eyes on him. 

“So,” he said, a cheeky tone thick in his voice, “Does your Mother know about your little crush?” 

“Shut up!” 

-

Bumi didn’t know what to do with his hands. He folded them in his lap, then shoved them into the pockets of his coat, then crossed his arms. He crossed his legs and chanced a glance around himself. He spotted Kya, sitting all the way on the other side of the room beside their mother, arm around her as she greeted each person coming in with resolve that Bumi couldn’t imagine. Even Kya swiped an errant tear from her eye while Bumi watched. 

Bumi didn’t know everyone at the funeral, but he recognized many faces, from paintings or photographs or even from stories his parents and aunts and uncles had told. They were old now-- even Bumi was in his mid-forties, so of course they were old. 

There were Kyoshi Warriors of varying ages, warriors from the Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom civilians, little children in their mothers arms coming to give their respect. Izumi and her husband and their little son sought him out, and Bumi was glad feelings were still warm between them even after their short and ill fated relationship. 

Tenzin had disappeared at some point. That morning when Bumi was getting ready, after he’d collected himself and brushed his hair, he told himself he would try talking with Tenzin. Arriving on Air Temple Island, seeing all of his father’s friends and colleagues and people he touched who were able to come for his funeral, quickly eroded that resolve. Bumi was overwhelmed, and did not know what to do with himself. 

He stood and found one of the many side doors to the balcony areas, spotting an open spot of railing to lean his elbows against as he tried to make it feel less like his first time on a warship. The wind whipped his hair, white caps in the water down below making Bumi’s head spin. 

There hadn’t been a warning, before. Before Kya appeared in Bumi’s office at the base with tears in her eyes. Before Tenzin arrived on his bison to bring them to the temple where their Father would be laid to rest. It was a whirl-- traditions stipulating not more than one day pass. 

The news spread quickly after that. The Avatar had died, his hundred years frozen in the South degrading his health in unseen ways. Vigils were held throughout the world that night, Bumi heard, and photos of these were published throughout the world. Mourners arrived at Air Temple Island early the next morning and only left after a public memorial was planned for several days later. Bumi went to his home on the base in a daze. 

Bumi had been trying to remember when the last time he spoke to his father was, before. Bumi had been busy for years it seemed, no longer taking off time for the Glacier Spirits Festival nor any of the other holidays he’d been raised with. They weren’t the same as when he was a kid so he overlooked them. 

“Hey kid.” 

Bumi startled, standing up straight at the voice. 

“Oh,” he said. “Hey Uncle.” 

Sokka smiled, a thin and flat thing barely reaching his eyes, but a smile nonetheless. He was wearing a light parka like he might in a South Pole summer. Sokka’s hair had faded over the last few decades since he’d served as councilman in the City, and the green bead in the braid he had started bacak then rested against his jaw. He looked tired. 

Bumi leaned his elbows onto the rail again, arms crossed. 

He wasn’t surprised when Sokka put his arm over his shoulder, leaning against the railing beside him. He wasn’t surprised by the firm way he rubbed his hand up and down Bumi’s arm. He was surprised only by the way it made Bumi boil over, dip his chin and grit his teeth against the tears suddenly welling up to his eyes. He couldn’t hold them in, so he let them out as quietly as possible, schooling his breathing as shallow as he could without forcing himself to gasp for air as all at once, hot tears poured down his face. 

Bumi thought he had gotten this out of his system already, in the three days since… 

Sokka pulled Bumi closer to his side, and Bumi realized he was talking. “It’s alright,” he said. “Let it out.” 

They stood like that for a while, until Bumi could taste just how much water he’d lost through his tears, cheeks dried by the wind, not speaking more than soft words mostly taken away by the wind. 

“Hey,” Sokka said. “I’m going to go see your Mother. Are you going to be okay?” 

“Yeah,” Bumi said, and his voice was rough. 

\--

He and Kya spoke by those railings, later. She was going to go home, a big deal as she’d been travelling since she turned eighteen, it seemed. What was he going to do, she wondered? 

Well, he’d go back to the Navy tomorrow, he’d supposed. He’d come home though, for Glacier Spirits this year, he promised. 

\--

Something came up that year, as always. He regretted it, but there was nothing for it. 

The next time he saw his family, it was a tense quiet wait in the hall of Air Temple Island. Kya and Katara came from the South, both gone with Pema as soon as they arrived. Tenzin was pacing, somewhere, and Air Acolytes bustling around with preparations, grabbing hot water and clean towels and, and, and. 

Sokka came before long, after Katara sent an Acolyte into the City to fetch him. It was lucky that there were programs he was developing at the Cultural Center. His uncle greeted him warmly, tapping his cane lightly against his ankle and sharing a grin before going to find Tenzin. When one of the Air Acolytes came to alert them all that the baby had come, the  _ click-click-click _ of Sokka’s cane announcing their approach. Sokka came, clearly tired from standing in the windy open air, excused himself to take the seat beside Bumi. 

Jinora had arrived after a long labor-- or it seemed like a long one to Bumi, though Mom beamed as she brought the little girl out to her waiting father, assuring Tenzin that it went smoothly and quickly and the Pema was resting. 

Tenzin looked like he could faint when he held his daughter, and Katara took her back after a moment of Tenzin holding her stiffly. He was the baby of the family, Bumi realized with a private chuckle that Tenzin may never have held a baby before. Katara held the little girl’s head in the crook of her arm, and Tenzin’s eyes stayed glued to her as she cooed and mumbled. 

“Come on, Bumi,” Katara called to him, and Bumi stood and loomed cautiously over Tenzin’s shoulder, looking at the little girl. She had a wisp of hair at the top of her head and big round eyes. Her little cheeks were a deep rosy red. 

“Do you want to hold her?” his Mother asked, voice creaking and sweet. 

“Oh,” Bumi said, but she was already moving close, lifting the little girl to his level to hold. 

She was lighter than Bumi would have expected-- she must be bundled in many layers of blanket. Her eyes were brown, he realized, as she blinked up at him slowly. She cocked her head just a bit, more likely than just finding a more comfortable position in the crook of his arm, and gave a crooked gummy smile. He felt like Tenzin had looked a moment ago-- he was light headed and his face was hot, and he looked up at Tenzin and Katara watching him and the baby. 

“She’s…” he started, and trailed off as no words big enough came to mind. She was beautiful and adorable and he wanted to kiss her cheek and squeeze her tightly to himself. A flash vision of taking his leave to visit this little girl around the holidays-- and possibly what to bring her then, or for her birthday-- it all came to mind in an instant. 

Katara nodded with a warm smile, understanding fully. She put her hand on Tenzin’s forearm. 

“Why don’t we go see Pema,” Katara suggested softly, taking the baby back from Bumi, and he already missed that scary, reassuring weight in his arms. 

They watched the trio disappear into the inner quarters of the temple again. Bumi took his seat beside Sokka again. She had been so small, he could still feel the squishy softness of her against his chest.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” 

Bumi whipped his head around to look at his Uncle, who was cocking his head away from Bumi and scrutinizing him with a smile. Bumi swallowed and nodded. 

“I felt the same way when you were born.” 

He could only stare at the wistful look on his uncle’s face before a weak half smile spread over his face. 

“It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it? I wanted to move to the South permanently the first time I held you. Of course, being with Suki and all complicated that-- and it wasn’t like Katara and Aang were going to be settling down, not with all the work that needed to be done… everywhere. But I took every opportunity I could to be part of your life-- and your sister and brother.” He sighed. “You just got yourself a new role, kid. ‘Uncle’ has got to be a bit more fun than being a parent, but it’s no small task.” His smile faded from his face as he spoke, until he was giving Bumi a serious, appraising look. “You’ll take it seriously?” 

Bumi barely held himself back from saluting, but his back straightened on instinct anyway. “Yes, sir. I promise.” 

Sokka fixed that gaze on him a moment longer, before a grin split his face once more and he threw his head back with a laugh. He reached over and tousled Bumi’s hair, pulling strands loose from where he secured it at the back of his head, earning a hearty laugh from Bumi. 

\--

Bumi kept his promise, and he saw his family more over the next few years, and held the newborn Ikki and Meelo, too. He saw his uncle less often, especially after Sokka and Suki stopped traveling to the South Pole for the winter festivals after the cold started locking Sokka’s joints more severely. 

This made him regret not factoring in Kyoshi Island festivals as well. 

He’d always loved to visit Kyoshi Island, the few times he made it there in his youth. It was beautiful, and watching the Warriors train under his Aunt was mesmerizing. The weather was almost always fair-- unlike the cold elevation of the Air Nomad Islands or the South Pole, or the overbearing heat of the Fire Nation. And there was sand to play in, and forest to run through with Kya, and shallow tide pools to poke around with Tenzin. 

But today was not an occasion for any of those activities. The drums were still beating in his ears, the smell of the pyre strong in his nose, and he needed air. People had come from all over the world for the funeral, and even with the size of the town-- at least quadrupled the size of when his aunt and uncle were young here, according to Sokka-- the streets were filled. 

So Bumi turned toward the sea. 

As he gained distance from the pyre in the heart of the town, which would continue burning until night time, the crowds thinned considerably. No one paid Bumi a second glance, and he escaped to the marina without fuss. He felt at ease with the open water before him, and the first step onto the wooden planks of the old dock soothed the tightness in his chest. He strode to the end, among the tall sailboats and short fishing vessels. 

He wasn’t the only one with the same idea, it seemed. Sitting there, feet over the edge and cane laid across his knees, was his Uncle Sokka. 

Bumi froze, unsure if he should approach him or not. Sokka hadn’t moved, and from his silhouette he could see how tense his shoulders were. He was looking at the water far below the dock, and Bumi had to marvel for a moment at how Sokka, in his early eighties, had gotten down onto the edge to swing his legs over. 

“You can join me,” Sokka said, and Bumi startled. Of course, Bumi hadn’t tried to soften the resounding steps of his military boots. 

He sat silently, careful to be gentle on his knees as he got into position. Sokka’s eyes stayed on the water, and Bumi wanted to say something to break the silence, but the waves did just as well as he could hope to. 

When he chanced a look at Sokka’s face, he was stunned to spot a tear trail over his cheek. Bumi averted his eyes quickly.

“Seems like,” Sokka started, and now Bumi heard the roughness in his voice. “You only see folks for funerals these days.” He laughed hollowly, and Bumi looked up to see the royal Fire Nation airship approaching from the southwest. 

He took a shaky breath and let it out on a sigh. Bumi didn’t know what to do-- there was no precedence for this. Of course he had held his mother when she cried over his father or after Grandpa Hakoda’s passing, and his sister, too. But he’d never seen his Uncle cry before. Sokka dried his face with the cuff of his sleeve, already moving past it. 

Sokka always had something to say, and Bumi waited patiently for that line, the joke or quip or observation or anything. But Sokka just sat and watched the water lap at the posts of the dock. 

The marina was pretty new. It had taken a lot of manpower, Bumi heard, to move the big rocks into place and selter the marina from the rougher water of the sea and what it contained.

As if on cue, a massive koi breached in the bay in front of them. 

Sokka inhaled a shaky gasp through his nose, and leaned back on one hand, releasing the air with a warm laugh. 

“You know,” he said. “Your father once rode one of those koi. Reckless as all get out.” He tapped his fingers on the dock. “That was the day I met Suki.” 

Another koi breached, but Bumi was looking at Sokka. Another tear slid down his cheek. 

They sat for more than a half hour there, Bumi figured, and his legs were all pins and needles by the time Sokka shifted to get up. The sun was low and they should find their way back to the village square before it got dark. 

\--

Kya need only send one letter to get Bumi on the next airship heading south. Her message was short yet urgent. 

Sokka was sick. Come see him, please. 

Bumi was lucky he had so much leave time at his disposal as a commander, after the week he’d only recently taken off for his aunt’s funeral rites. He left that same day the letter arrived, and his ship touched down early the next morning. 

Bumi recognized Tenzin’s bison from a distance, and found his mother sitting in the outer room of her home when he came in, careful not to track in too much snow. Voices drifted from up the hall, where he presumed Sokka was being visited by Tenzin and his family. 

He could see the distress on his mother’s face, the tight pinch of her brows belying that same wrinkle there that Sokka had had as long as Bumi knew him. She greeted Bumi with a flat, watery smile, her throat too tight to offer a verbal greeting. Kya hung back beside the mouth of the hallway. 

Pema appeared in the hallway first, bouncing little Meelo as he fussed. Ikki held onto her skirt, and Jinora tailed Tenzin as the solemn five came up the hallway and gathered once again around Katara. 

“Let me bring you back to him,” Kya said to Bumi quietly, grabbing his sleeve. Bumi glimpsed Tenzin bending down to say something to Katara as he turned to follow his sister. 

There was a chilly quiet in the room as they entered, all but Sokka’s quiet breathing. He was tucked in bed, his arms free and form prone. His cheeks were sunken-- not shockingly so, but definitely more pronounced than the last time Bumi saw him. 

“Hey Uncle Sokka,” Bumi said quietly as brought a chair against the wall up to the side of Sokka’s bed and took a seat. 

“Hey,” Sokka returned, smiling just as brilliantly as ever if hampered by the weakness of his own facial muscles. 

“He’s to stay in bed,” Kya said to Bumi. “Make sure he does, okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sokka said, waving one of his hands through the air. 

“I’m serious, Uncle Sokka,” she said, turning her focus on Bumi. “Seriously.” 

“Okay.” 

Satisfied, Kya left them alone. 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Sokka shifted, pressing his fists into the mattress to push himself up. 

“Hey--” Bumi said, unsure of what to do and starting to reach out to grab Sokka’s shoulders but realizing he may be too frail for that. “You’re not supposed to--” 

“If I’m gonna die,” Sokka said gruffly, grabbing a pillow to push between his back and the headboard, “Sitting up isn’t gonna do me much good or much bad, is it?” 

Bumi couldn’t argue-- didn’t know how to, frankly. 

“Go to that dresser, would you?” he said, waving toward the piece of furniture in question, making it clear just how shaky his hands were. “I need you to write something down.” 

Bumi frowned, but did as he was told, following his instructions to find the right pad of paper and pen. He came back to his seat, still unsure if he should encourage Sokka to lay back down. Did it make a difference, really? 

“I dreamt of this equation last night,” Sokka said. “Teo and I have been trying to solve this for years.” 

Sokka continued to dictate an equation to Bumi-- spanning at least three pages, if Bumi was paying attention at all. It went smooth enough until Sokka wanted him to add a diagram. Frustrated, Sokka finally snatched the paper from Bumi’s hands, strong despite the tremble that seemed to shoot up his arm as he gripped the pen. He drew something-- roughly with a body like a canoe and wings like Tenzin’s glider-- and lighter, he drew circles emanating from the back end of the body and the wings. Bumi couldn’t decide if it looked very scientific or very artistic. It was rough, with lines that might have come out gorgeously straight twenty years ago were stunted and pocked. 

“Fold these together, would you?” Sokka told him, and so he did. Sokka gripped his wrist and closed his hand around the paper. “Make sure this gets to Teo, won’t you?” 

There was a finality in that request that Bumi didn’t want to touch. He looked at the paper in his hand and back at Sokka. 

“Just promise me. Put it away now,” Sokka said, sinking back into the pillows now. “How is Republic City these days?” he asked, moving on. 

They talked for another half hour about everything-- the City and probending and the latest art installation at the Cultural Center in the City-- until Sokka’s eyelids began to droop. He began to stand up to leave Sokka to rest, but he hesitated for a moment. 

“Hey Uncle,” he said, leaning over Sokka. He hesitated a moment more before he pressed a kiss to his uncle’s head. He closed his eyes against the moisture in his eyes, pressing his forehead to Sokka’s and steeling himself before he spoke. 

“You give that one to Auntie for me.” 

Sokka blinked at him, taking a moment to remember what he’d said to Bumi all those years ago, and then they both laughed. 

“I’ll hold onto it for her,” Sokka assured him. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Odae! Happy Winter Solstace! I'm adding this after the notification went out so hopefully you see. I was going to write a eulogy (by Bumi, for Sokka) at the end, but I tripped and fell into this ending and liked it very much. Hope you do too. Love you and hope you enjoy!!


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